a wash basin and there he saw reflected something that he certainly did not expect to see two long magnificent donkey ears!
Imagine the grief, the same, the despair of Pinocchio. He cried and screamed and beat his head against the wall, but the more he cried the more his ears grew and grew and grew, and hair began to appear on their tips.
At the sound of his heart-rending cries a Dormouse, who lived on the same floor, hurried into the room. Seeing the marionette in such anguish she asked eagerly, "What is the matter with you, my dear little fellow lodger?"
"I am sick, Mrs. Dormouse, very sick, and in a way that frightens me. Do you understand counting the pulse beats?"
"A little."
"Then see if I have a fever."
The Dormouse took Pinocchio's wrist in her paws, and after a moment said, "My friend, it grieves me, but I have bad news for you."
"What is it?"
"You have a bad fever."
